Whisper Lullabies to Sleep
by Maidenstear
Summary: He had always had such soulful eyes. They were wise, and they were gentle. Or at least they used to be.  set in Jak 2


Aneko: Jak and Daxter is probably my favorite American video game. I just don't think anything else is as interesting. I mean come on—who can beat the fictional, furry snazziness that is Daxter? Anyways, here it is. I had randomly decided to play the Jak games again, and I'm playing the second one right now. Since I'm a fan of mushy, happy feelings, it's a friendship fic between Jak and Dax, from Daxter's point of view. There is no romance. None at all.

Disclaimer: Naughty Dog, I believe, owns the Jak and Daxter franchise. My point is, I do not.

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><p><em><strong>Whisper Lullabies to Sleep<strong>_

He had always had such soulful eyes. Even old Green Stuff, stern and grumpy as he was, had never been able to stay angry at him for very long (Daxter, on the other hand…). They were wise, and they were gentle.

Or at least, they used to be.

He could still remember it, the last morning they spent in the sunny green joy of Sandover Village. It had been a normal day, just like any other normal day. They were just going to explore more of that clunky, ruined Precursor junk and see what happened when they pushed all the buttons. So when they were hurtled into the warp gate, getting separated from Samos and Keira, he didn't really panic at first. They had just been moved to a different location…right?

But the soldiers came, and they took him away. Those soft eyes were wide with confusion, and maybe just a little bit of fear. When you're small and furry, it's hard not to panic when you see people ten times your size coming at you with guns. Animal instinct told him to run, and he looked back to see his best friend fall in a heap.

"Don't worry Jak! I'll save ya before ya know it!" He called nervously, but he wasn't sure if the words were for Jak or for himself. Jak was the hero, not him. How was he supposed to rescue him in this daunting city? He wasn't very brave. He never had been, and he probably never would be, but Jak—Jak was counting on him. He couldn't let him down. If Jak was in his place, he would never give up looking for Daxter. Not even after he had drawn his last breath. And Daxter felt no less loyalty to his best friend. So with a deep breath and setting of his teeth, he started to search.

Two years.

There were a lot of nights he spent curled in some small, cold, damp corner, trying fitfully to catch just a little sleep before the sun rose. He was able many times to sneak by with just his smooth tongue and smoother moves, but just as many times it ended up with a frying pan to the face.

It was so lonely. He missed Jak's shoulder and his silences. The blonde had never said a word, but he had the most expressive silence that there ever could be. These thoughts pressed Daxter onwards on days when all he wanted to do was give up. Jak was waiting.

And at long last, when he found him, he could barely cover over the slight shake in his voice with his usual jibes. He was alive, he was breathing. But he was bleeding and torn and _broken_.

When his rage took over, his mind too far gone to recognize his best friend, the only moment of fear Daxter felt was a brief flame, replaced in moments by a hot stabbing feeling in his heart.

His best friend had been tortured to the brink of insanity.

He wanted to think of something comforting to say, but he had never been that good at talking about touchy-feely stuff, and he wasn't about to start. He could only strive for normalcy, and hope that his buddy would be okay.

Somehow, they were able to make it through the first day. And the day after that. And the day after that. When it became clear that they were more than capable of handling the Tattooed Wonder's easy-breezy missions, he finally gave them their own room in the hideout to sleep in. It was something Daxter had been holding his breath for. A real bed instead of those bricks they called mattresses for the more _normal_ members of the underground.

And it was something that Jak needed too. Whenever he was with anyone else, his guard was up, almost to the point that Daxter thought the blonde would start to hyperventilate. It was only once the two of them were safe in their room, the door closed and locked, that Jak's shoulders would suddenly sag.

All of a sudden, he isn't "Jak the soldier" anymore, but just "Jak the teenager." And he's broken and torn and bleeding again, just like the first time that Daxter saw him in that prison. As they fall asleep at night, Daxter feels a bit of that hate that Jak is consumed by when the sun rises. He watches Jak curl up under the blankets, the frown falling away in sleep, and a voice whispers in his mind, _"How dare you? How dare you do this to my best friend? I will never forgive you!"_

Sometimes he screams.

When it's dark and silent outside, Daxter is woken by the sound of gasping breaths as his friend battles his demons. Whether they are his demons from the monster inside, or from the past, he never says. Maybe he just can't. Maybe it's a little bit of both, tangling up inside him until he can't breathe.

Daxter always wakes him when the nightmares come, shoving his arm with furry paws that have no strength, until the thrashing halts and those eyes grasp at the dark room in bewilderment.

"You were dreaming," Daxter will say, biting off the word _again_. Because Jak does not need to be reminded. Because Jak already knows. He sits there, and just watched Daxter, as though he cannot believe that he is really there. The nightmares wear down the hardened warrior he is in the daytime and he is left reliving the worst two years of his life. He never speaks at night, but Daxter knows it from those eyes. Large eyes that were once wise and gentle.

In the light of day, the bewilderment and the fear are gone again, snuffed out by the rage that boils over. And Daxter knows he's fighting that rage, but it gets harder every day. At night, the nightmares come back all over again, to torture, to weaken, to confuse him. When his eyes open, they are wide and lost. It took Daxter only a few nights to realize that he didn't talk at night because he _couldn't_. In the nightmares, he returns to two years of silent agony, of a time when he still hadn't found his voice and no one would have heard or cared anyways.

But for Daxter, who had known Jak's voice before he even knew how to use it, his eyes are enough. They say eyes are the window to the soul, and Daxter knew Jak's eyes better than anyone could ever claim.

Daxter had never seen a more deeply sorrowful blue. What Jak had been through—it wasn't something so simple as falling into a lake of dark eco. Sure, Daxter was furry and without pants…but there was also no pain, no nightmares, and no bad memories. Where Daxter had suffered a mutation, Jak had suffered a corruption throughout his mind, body and soul. At least Daxter could mock, jibe, and complain about his own situation. If he tried that with Jak, he was afraid the dark warrior would break, in more ways than one. Sometimes, eh poked at the subject, but never too deeply. The last thing he wanted to do was make Jak angry.

It wasn't that he was afraid of Jak. Daxter was afraid of _many_ things, but not Jak. _Never_ Jak. No matter what anyone said, Jak was still Jak. Keira still couldn't quite understand that, something Daxter knew hurt Jak deeply. But Daxter knew. He knew that Jak was bitter, and he was full of revenge, but that he was still young, no matter how world-weary he seemed.

And so for those tired and scared, young eyes, Daxter will climb over to Jak's pillow and sit by his head, and he talks. It's never important talk—commentary on the Tattooed Wonder, the crappiness of the last mission, how stupid metalheads were, things like that—but then, it wasn't supposed to be. All that mattered was the sound of his voice to pull Jak back to the present, and remind him that he wasn't alone.

And when, at last, his breathing would slow, and his eyelids begin to droop, Daxter creeps back to his place to sleep, exhaustion settling in like a welcome blanket. But just before the darkness takes over, he hears it—two words that fall like rain to earth.

"Thanks, Dax."

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><p>Aneko: I really like these games! The minute I saw the opening for the second game, I was like, "WTheck? Jak? 0.0" So yeah. It had quite the impact on me.<p>

Yes, I'm aware that the tense in the story switches. I was doing it on purpose, but I understand if you find it annoying, confusing, or upsetting. Nevertheless, thank you for reading. :)


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